


damage ensued and tabloid news

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conspiracy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Training, Jedi Ben Solo, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Prince Ben Solo, Private Investigator Rey, Private Investigators, for which I'll add more descriptive tags when we get there, is still there and absolutely thriving thank you very much, well. ex-Jedi given that he's getting married.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: When Rey, a private investigator still working to carve out her place in the galaxy, is summoned by the Queen of Alderaan to get to the bottom of her son's sudden engagement, she finds herself in a world she'd never even dreamt of. And, as the strange connection that binds her to the prince grows stronger, so does her determination to work her way through every last one of his secrets.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 19
Kudos: 33
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This concept has been bugging me for a while, so here it finally is.  
> Some minor tweaks that send this into canon divergence territory (apart from Alderaan's existence) - Ben and Luke part on slightly more civil terms, Rey gets out of Jakku earlier on (with Finn's help - more on that later); ages are slightly tinkered with so that I can line things up a little better to my liking, but nothing too crazy. I went with Voe from TROKR as Ben's fiancee both because it works very well with the plot I've got in mind, because I actually really like her _and_ because she's one of the few characters apart from Rey that he has an actual history with.  
> Decided to just dive head-first into the plot this time and will follow with more background story on everyone gradually in later chapters; I'm curious to see how it'll go.  
> Title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iq5gesj6kmw); this song goes pretty well with the vibe I'm aiming for in this one.  
> Hope you guys enjoy it and, as always, feedback is most welcome!

It’s always best to come prepared; over five years of investigative work had proved that much. No matter what the particular job calls for, Rey tends to give herself weeks in advance to make sure that she’s ready to handle it. She hadn’t expected anything to be different this time despite her unusually uncooperative client and, despite her best efforts, she’d ended up speechless in the face of her new temporary home.

Nothing could have prepared her for Alderaan – not the endless leaflets she’d thumbed her way through, not the rich history of the planet that her datapad had provided her with; not even her contact’s vague directions. If anything, the frequent descriptions of the place’s beauty had started turning tiresome after a while and had left her fully unguarded for the sight that had welcomed her once she’d stepped off the ship and into the sunlight.

Aldera is a city like no other; she had been warned about that. Surrounded by mountains and water and bursting with noise and movement even from afar, it feels like life itself tightly packed into a city and looks it, too. She should get moving, she knows – impending traffic on a spaceport is the last thing she needs if she’s to slip through the crowd unnoticed – but all this time, with all her travelling from planet to planet on her clients’s requests, she had never seen anything quite like _this_.

“Ma’am, if you would.” One of the hassled members of the ship’s staff urges her down the stairs and towards the exit. “Your transport’s arrived.”

“My transport?” Rey had suspected directions of some kind, perhaps even a call, but nothing this personal. Given the secrecy of her assignment and how tight-lipped the person giving it to her had been, she’d expected them to be a big deal, although, “I haven’t made any arrangements.”

“They called ahead.” They’d reached a small shuttle and, to her further bewilderment, her modest luggage had already found its way to the back of the vehicle. The steward chances a look in her direction as she makes her way in, his disinterested demeanour taking on a nervous edge. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your flight.”

It’s the last thing Rey hears as the door’s lock clicks behind her, shutting out any remaining noise from the outside world. It’s strangely foreboding; even before so when the shuttle glides away from the spaceport soundlessly and she realises that she’s not alone.

“Rey, was it?” The woman sitting on the bench opposite of her, on the contrary, is as far from foreboding as she can possibly be despite her tense posture and severe, if elaborate, hairdo. The easy invitation in her voice does little to mask the impatience beneath and Rey nods her affirmative. She’s used to this – no one hires a private investigator for fun – and the lack of last name tends to make her clients’s initial suspicions even harder to overcome, but it’s easier to keep her air of mystery instead of admitting that she’d never had one. “Welcome to Alderaan. You’ll forgive me the abrupt start of this working relationship, I hope; you’ll be given your time to rest, but I wanted to fill you in on the work first.”

“Of course.” Work first, rest later. She’s more than willing to accept that, especially if the place where she would spend her days off would be anything like the district they seem to be nearing. “I’m sorry, I admit I’m a bit unprepared. You never mentioned who I would be working on.”

“Of course you are. The more prepared I’d made you, the more chances there’d be for our communication to be listened in on.” She reaches out, a datapad in hand, and Rey’s eyes immediately fall on the news article splayed on top of the page. “It’s my son you’ll be working on. I’m sure you’ll understand the secrecy.”

There’s a photo splayed right in the middle of the screen – a garden overflowing with flowers and, in the middle of it all, a man and a woman sitting in a gazebo, hand in hand, in an arrangement seen in a thousand public relationship announcements before. Rey allows herself the reassurance that this case might not end up quite so strange after all, only to be faced with the news title just a moment later.

**THE PRINCE OF ALDERAAN MEETS HIS MATCH**

_In a move following in his mother’s footsteps, Ben Solo, the heir to Alderaan’s throne, has found his other half while away from home, and in the arms of someone entirely unexpected, much to the chagrin of countless bookmakers, no doubt._

_The princess-to-be is the prince’s lifelong friend, as the couple shared with us in an exclusive interview. Neither of them expected this outcome of their relationship, being the first two knighted Jedi in Luke Skywalker’s Temple, but they were both “unable to resist the spark”, they confided. The Queen herself has given the union her blessing and one can’t help but wonder..._

The article devolves into speculations and background information – the kind that Rey is sorely lacking at the moment; the kind she would have devoured if it hadn’t been for the puzzle pieces that had suddenly clicked together. The queen of Alderaan had given them her blessing. She’d allowed her son’s marriage, and her client had said—

Rey can _see_ the moment Leia Organa – _the_ Leia Organa – realises that she’d connected the dots. It’s something about her expression that she’d spotted too many times before, like a strange mixture of discomfort and the shame people tend to feel about hiring an investigator to spy on someone they love, mixed with the acknowledgment of the power she holds. It’s a delicate position to be in, Rey can bet – she can’t trust anyone both she and her son know with this, not without revealing that she doesn’t trust his decisions, and getting a stranger to do the dirty work for her had been equally demeaning, but she hadn’t had much of a choice.

“Your Majesty—”

“Please.” She sounds like it, too; as if she’d like to be done with this as soon as possible, even though they’d only just begun. “It’s Leia. We’ll be seeing far too much of each other for you to call me anything else. You’re not one of my subjects.” She frowns. “Where _are_ you from? Nothing I found on you mentioned that.”

“Jakku, Your— Leia.” The words feel like gravel in her mouth. She _had_ expected a big deal, what with everything surrounding this new case, but nothing close to royalty. What appears to be a succession dispute of some kind had been quite far from the quick, effortless investigation she’d have expected from a planet as peaceful as this one and she should have at least been _warned_ about the gravity of the situation. The queen had wanted to sidestep the potential refusal if she happened to find the task too intimidating, Rey supposes, and it’d have been a close thing, but not _that_ close – she’s not in the habit of refusing money. It’s a way of thinking left over from her days as a scavenger, when she’d done twice as much for half the rate she usually gives her clients now.

Still, this is— _more_. More important and more difficult and more time-consuming – it can’t be all that easy to get the prince of this world to trust her with whatever it is that his mother would like Rey to pluck from him; especially so if he’s up to something sinister. Even more so if it involves an unexpected wife that he’d only just brought home. Regardless of the place she would pretend to take into his life, he’d be hesitant to let her in. She’s never met a Jedi – had only recently realised that they hadn’t gone extinct, really – but it’s not hard to imagine that he won’t be particularly talkative.

“Jakku. That must be quite a story.” It is, and she shrugs reflexively before she can think of a more suitable response. She can’t quite bring herself to be self-conscious; if etiquette had been part of her employer’s expectations, she would have needed to let her know much sooner. “It is a long-term project,” the queen allows and for a fleeting moment, Rey wonders if she’d read her mind. The powers of a Jedi, like the ones that her son apparently has, tend to be inherited, from what she’d heard, even if she doubts that someone of her standing would lower herself to such tactics. “You’re going to live in the palace; your excuse is you taking up the job as our new publicity manager. And once you’re there – once you’re privy to every little detail of this engagement, from the sides of it that my son is feeding the rest of the galaxy to the ones he wants buried as deeply as possible – I want you to report every part of whatever is going on behind the curtain. I’m assuming there’s plenty of it.”

“Understood.” Usually, Rey would have preferred to figure out her own cover story, but it seems like a far better idea for her to hand the reins to someone else for once, given just how unprepared she happens to be. “I assume you already have your suspicions?”

“Nothing specific enough to let this take its course without outside help, but yes, I do.” The queen looks too resigned to the situation for comfort and Rey does her best to brace herself for the avalanche of information that is sure to follow. “We’ll have to start from the very beginning.”

~.~

Luke Skywalker’s Jedi Temple, as Rey learns during the remainder of their trip, had been – despite the idyllic tales surrounding it – a place rife with all kinds of conflict. The longest-lasting one, from the queen’s tale, had been the Jedi Master himself and his royal nephew’s falling out, resulting in said royal nephew’s almost immediate return to his homeworld.

“I didn’t mind, of course; he’s my son. I’d be thrilled to teach him how to do what I do. It was a relief to hear that he’d got knighted before abandoning the position entirely, but he’d never wanted to be a Jedi. He has the mind for politics, I think,” Leia falters for a moment, as if she’s not sure she knows him well enough to be able to tell, and Rey can’t help but wonder just how young the students are when they’re sent to the Temple, “but he doesn’t have the training for any of it. He’s brash and tactless and impatient and he can’t hold his temper to save his life. Naturally, all of my advisors hate him. A few weeks back, an idea was brought forward: make him marry. It would be exciting to watch in holos- he’s already _exciting_ enough on his own, but we’ve got other planets’s nations to make a good impression for, even if the people here love him well enough – and, if his new spouse is one of their – severely limited, as you can imagine – approved choices, he or she might manage to get him in line by the time it’d be his turn to take on the leadership position. I brought it up to him and made it very clear that he didn’t have to decide right away. It’s only meant to appease our council and that it didn’t have to be anything permanent; a long engagement would do for the time being and he could go back on it in the event that things went south. I can deal with the backlash of _that_ better than I can handle the majority of his decisions so far.”

Rey chances another look down at the datapad, where the prince’s image stares back at her. Given the turn the article’s story had taken, it’s easy to imagine what had happened next. “I take it he only agreed conditionally.”

“Not quite. He said he’d think about it and then, without another word, once he came back from his next trip off-world, brought a fiancée home with him.”

“Another Jedi.” Voe Madin, from what Rey had gathered by skimming the rest of the interview with the happy couple, had been knighted alongside with the prince, but had lasted there a little longer until he’d come back and, apparently, had made her an offer she hadn’t been able to refuse. It’s a challenge to even think the word – they make quite the picture, with the sullen, equally striking but entirely distinctive faces – but, “So they— eloped?”

“I wish it were that,” the queen sighs, sagging back in her seat. “It’s what we’re selling – what we _were_ selling before our publicity manager quit her job – but Luke contacted me shortly after and from what he knows, they _hate_ each other. They have for years. Nothing changed after they were knighted; Ben left as soon the conflict between him and his uncle turned physical,” it pains her to share that particular detail, that much is obvious, but the confidentiality papers Rey had signed had been too thorough for her to react visibly, “and Voe took my brother’s side in it all. He hasn’t contacted anyone in the Temple in the year after that, apart from one of his friends – definitely not her. And now, with no warning or any real consideration, they’re engaged. So yes, he’s done what I’ve asked of him,” she adds, somewhat defensive when she receives no immediate response, “in practice but not in spirit as per usual. I’ve never minded that before, but if he’s put himself in danger over whatever they’re both getting out of this, I want to know.” Rey leans into the empty space between them, intrigued now that they’d got to the heart of the issue. “If she’s plotting something behind his back, I want to know. If they’re both plotting something behind _my_ back, I want to know. And once you take up the position I’m going to get him to give you, you’ll have all the access you’d ever need to the answers of all the questions that have come out of this. Anything new, no matter how insignificant you think it might be, should get back directly to me. His safety comes first.” _But there’s the safety of the planet to keep in mind, too._ She doesn’t need to say it for Rey to be able to tell.

“I understand.” The door hisses open and she reaches towards her luggage, only to recall where they’d just landed. Personal assistance – provided by both droids and humans, from what she can see – all over the palace would certainly take some getting used to. “I have to ask— in the event of anything unsavoury coming up—”

It’s a standard question for every case she takes, but the queen waves her off. “I’d rather cross that bridge if we get to it, if you don’t at all mind. He _is_ my son. Considering my family, that could mean anything; I’ve decided to put my faith in him regardless.” She turns away and towards the series of buildings scattered in the middle of an immense garden, as if she’s entering a battlefield. “But it’s been fifteen years.”

~.~

The royal residence is – as everything else on Alderaan had been so far – unlike anything Rey had ever experienced. It manages to be both delicate and decadent at once and every room she catches a glimpse of is brimming with life. There are several large halls clearly meant for dancing, a feast, or both, a painting room, an astronomy tower, a library so vast that she can barely see the ceiling and, finally, an inner courtyard right in the middle of the main building, elevated high enough above the rest of it that it’s on the same level as the rooftop.

A chill rushes through her as soon as she steps out on the glass floor and follows the queen to the other edge and she stifles the fleeting regret at not having stopped for a change of clothes. Her last job had taken her to yet another desert planet and the light, thin attire she’d worn through all her years on Jakku had been more than appropriate; here, with the city so far below and the mountains as close as they are, they don’t do her the same service. It’s all she can do to resist the urge to wrap her arms around herself, lest she appears more nervous than she already is, and Rey is more than grateful for the distraction when she finally spots the prince and his future wife.

They’re impossible to miss – the flowing Jedi robes, slightly modified to fit in with the rest of the court, catch her attention before anything else. The pitch black of his hair contrasts sharply with the silver of her braid and they’re standing so close that she can’t quite see their faces, apart from Solo’s enthusiastic nodding to whatever it is that she’s saying.

“Ben,” the queen calls out and they both flinch, the defensive stance clear in every muscle despite the familiarity. _Jedi_ _Knights_. It’s not something Rey had ever expected to come face to face with and she’s not quite sure how she would have pictured them otherwise. Older, for one, definitely – they look to be around her age and not particularly wise, though she supposes that might come with age. Or, perhaps, with the sort of experience they couldn’t have achieved, given how quickly they’d returned to the outside world. “I found you someone.”

“For?” The prince’s dark eyes scan her from head to toe, lightning fast, and he turns back towards his mother, mouth turned up in something that someone with a better imagination than hers might pretend is a smile. The look he’d given her lingers, strangely enough, like a caress that she can’t quite shake off; a presence that hadn’t been there before. It retracts before she can even begin to examine it and Rey shivers again. It has nothing to do with the cold this time, but it’s better to pretend that that’s all it is – otherwise, she might just turn on her heel and run. She’s seen that face _before_. He had looked familiar in the photos included in the article and Rey hadn’t thought much of it – he’s the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo and chances are she might have glimpsed him in a holo or two in the past few years – but this is different; visceral and terrible and tempting, as if his mere presence is tugging on a vault of memories she hadn’t even known she’d kept. All those years alone on Jakku and a quiet, steady presence that had kept her warm, had kept her believing—

The sound of his voice shatters through the vision.

“Didn’t you speak to Master Skywalker? He doesn’t think I should take any students.”

“Master— No.” It seems to be a denial of every part of his question just before Leia motions her closer. “I’m not bringing you _students_. Meet your new publicity manager.”

“Hello.” Rey holds a hand out and falters when he takes a moment to return the gesture. “I’m Rey.” If the lack of honorifics had bothered her before, it’s twice as troubling now. How is she expected to address _him_? “Her Majesty thought that I would be a good fit for the job, after—”

“After you chased that poor girl away.” The queen sends her a look that might have passed for reassuring if she hadn’t been more focused on berating her son. “Her family has worked for ours for _decades_.”

“She called me a witch.” He sounds more mystified than offended and Rey turns her surprised laughter into a cough right before those unnervingly perceptive eyes land on her again.

“She’d never seen anyone use the Force before.”

“She called my _fiancée_ a witch.”

“Ben—”

“I’m not planning on calling anybody a witch,” Rey chimes in before she can talk herself out of interrupting the most powerful person on this world, and definitely one of the most powerful in the entire New Republic. She can _feel_ the tension rising and it occurs to her – not for the first time since she’d got off the ship to Alderaan – that she knows nothing about the way the Force in question works. He can’t read her mind, surely? If he could, his mother would have known better than to try and send someone to spy on him. The fact that she’d done it to begin with is already out of the ordinary, even with Rey’s half a decade of experience in the field, but the queen strikes her as too perceptive to not have thought and overthought every detail of this idea. It’s ridiculous to trust someone she’d met so soon, but that’s what queens do, isn’t it? Inspire confidence, no matter how difficult the circumstances.

“I already like you better than the last one, then,” the prince mutters. “My mother did mention finding someone highly recommended for the position.”

“I am. Highly recommended, that is.” _For a different job_. She really rather hopes he can’t actually read her mind. “I’m glad to be of service.”

“I hope you stand by that.” The queen’s tone is startlingly casual, given the situation, but it’s understandable – she must have been taught to maintain an air of full neutrality for as long as she’s been alive. “If I have to read anything like the uncensored catastrophe from last night’s news, I might have to resign.”

“I’m sorry if this is embarrassing you in front of the Council.” There’s a sinking feeling that follows in the wake of his displeasure. “With no training to speak of, I’d say it went rather well. If not, you still have all the time in the world to name someone better trained as your heir. You must have had someone in mind before I came back.”

“Solo,” the other Jedi – _Voe_ – interferes. She’s on edge too, and looks it, but she’s not the one dripping anger all over the place, unlike the rest of her interlocutors. He doesn’t seem to hear her, and neither does his mother.

“No,” Leia’s voice gentler than Rey had heard it sound so far; startled, almost, right before it becomes agitated again. “No, I didn’t, no matter how much you insist on thinking I have a replacement ready.”

“And you’ve done _so_ much to prove me wrong.”

“Right.” Voe gets to her feet just as the queen takes a breath to strike back and nods at Rey; the only indication she gets that she should follow her example and leave the garden. “Come with me, or you won’t get anything else done today.”

She doesn’t need to ask twice. “I’ve never worked for royalty before,” Rey confides in her as soon as they’re out of earshot. It’s yet another half-truth, given that she hadn’t done this kind of work before at all and a quick look at her background would make any of the queen’s highly esteemed advisors shudder, and all she receives in response is a non-committal hum. “And I’m not sure the prince wants to be managed.”

“What he wants doesn’t matter. What _I_ want doesn’t matter.” _For the time being_. Rey is no Force prodigy, but the truth of it is written all over the future princess’s face and it surprises her again; how open they both are, for Jedi. Perhaps years in the Temple had robbed them of the ability to tell half-truths, if the kind of bluntness she’d already witnessed is anything to go by. “Neither of us knows how to handle this wasp nest, so we need help and Her Majesty can’t keep doing damage control every time we have to handle something as simple as an interview. Having no contact with the outside world for fifteen years makes everything much more complicated and I’m tired of people gaping at me.”

 _My predecessor called her a witch_ , Rey recalls, and that makes the next question, already brimming with curiosity, even more delicate than she’d anticipated it would be.

“You must have been taught a lot, back at the Temple.”

“We were,” Voe shrugs, hand wandering down the side of her cloak as if searching for something. It’s only when she finds it that Rey recognises the vague shape of it from the tales she’d heard over the years – a lightsaber, currently deactivated. “Nothing that can help us here, but Solo thinks it could be useful eventually, if we do end up ruling this world. He has a lot of— ideas on how things should be, even if half of them require violence of some kind and when he came to ask me to join him, I had to say yes once I heard him out.” She lets go of the weapon, smoothing the fabric back over it, face pensive. “It’s been a little over a month now. It was a difficult choice, but the right one, I think.”

“Is this it? The story you want to tell when the next tabloid comes?” _Solo_ , she’d said. Not _Ben_ , not even _my fiancé_ , as he’d referred to her. She’d called him the same to his face too and he hadn’t taken it as anything out of the ordinary. For the first time since her arrival, she’s starting to think that she might be looking for things that aren’t there. Perhaps the queen had been wrong – perhaps that’s all the truth there is to this.

“Yes,” Voe says after a moment of hesitation. “You’d have to run it through him too – in fact, we’ll have to discuss our entire strategy anew tomorrow, all three of us – but yes, I think this is it.”

“All right.” She can work with this. Her complete lack of experience hadn’t daunted the queen, or she would have contacted her sooner or sent someone to teach her the basics of the position. Of course she would have – she wouldn’t want another catastrophe as the one she’d mentioned before. “For what it’s worth,” Rey offers, more in an effort to drown out the panic that the realisation that she had been set loose in a world she hadn’t prepared the least bit for than anything else, “it’s a good story.”

They’d slowed down in the middle of yet another corridor, in front of what Rey assumes must be Voe’s quarters, and the Jedi stops in her tracks for just long enough to give her a smile. It’s looks just as painted on as the one her fiancé had managed earlier, but it’s a _start_. “I hope it is.” The words are laced with the sort of trepidation that she wouldn’t have expected from a person yielding a power otherwise only found in legends. “One day.”

~.~

While holding a position of some kind in her target’s life had always been part of Rey’s cover when carrying out an assignment, it had never been anything as thought consuming as this. It only dawns on her hours later, when she’s already in the bedroom someone had prepared for her, that her pretend job might just end up requiring more effort than the one she’d come here to do. The fact that the queen of Alderaan had been the one to sweet-talk her into striking that deal doesn’t make her feel any less like she’d been cheated to do both at once. The pay is worth it, of course, but for once, it’s a close thing.

 _I’m sure Organa told you it was easy work, apart from this one thing,_ Voe had told her, _but I wouldn’t trust her on that if I were you. There’s always a new_ thing _, and it usually brings up five of the old ones up with it._

Rey hadn’t wanted to believe it, at first. Telling herself that it’s just one scandal – one hurried, unannounced engagement – and that it’d be smooth sailing from there. It’s not like she’d have to spend the rest of her life on Alderaan; with a little luck, she would fish the truth out of the prince, deliver it to his mother, and go on to the next world soon enough.

The truth that she’d been faced with once she’d started her usual background check had left her with a far bleaker vision.

As it had turned out, the Organa-Solo household had been carefully held together by a string of scandals since its very conception. First, it had been the princess’s marriage to a war general (and, worse, a smuggler, though Rey isn’t entirely sure how many people outside of Jakku are privy to that particular titbit of information) instead of the doubtlessly more appropriate list of suitors that had been picked out for her. Then, it had been the only heir to Alderaan’s throne and the fact that he’d been sent away to be a Jedi at the age of ten. Nearly fifteen years after that, it had been said heir’s return and the fact that he’d opted to keep his father’s last name despite the fact that the position had been handed to him from his mother’s side of the family.

It might have been even more of a problem, Rey suspects, if somewhere between the prince’s departure and his return, the fact that the queen was descended from Darth Vader hadn’t come to light. It’s not difficult to see why the name he’d style himself with as king had been considered less of a priority in light of _that_ , but enough time had passed for this new burst of impropriety to bring the New Republic’s attention back to Alderaan . It’s a happy enough occasion, if less so for anyone who might have hoped to strike an alliance through marriage, but going down that route would require more energy than she’d got left by the time she’d thought of it, so Rey had chucked her datapad on the nightstand and had – with a determination she hadn’t felt since her endless days under the scorching desert sun – started getting ready for bed.

It’d all make sense eventually, she’s sure. She’d been doing this for years – if there’s one thing Rey had learnt to do better than anyone else over the years, it’s knowing how to bide her time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to this fic, after several ship weeks to take care of. ;D It has a solid outline now, which is more than I could say the last time, so there's that. Hope you guys enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!

The royal residence, even after over a week in the palace, feels like a labyrinth. Rey had been wandering around in search of the prince and his fiancée for a good half an hour before a member of staff had mercifully pointed her to yet another balcony, adjacent to one of the biggest galleries on the premises. Despite the lack of experience, she had seen enough of the royal family’s routine to be aware of what that must mean – _they’re entertaining guests again_.

She’s right, as it turns out, though it’s just the one guest, and just the one member of said family.

Poe Dameron seems to be a near-permanent fixture in Ben Solo’s life, much to Rey’s chagrin. It’s not that she’s got anything against him – on the contrary, he’d been all smiles on the rare occasions they’d had a chance to talk – but it’s impossible to get the prince alone when he’s in the palace, and getting the prince alone for a question or ten had been the main purpose of her own presence ever since the start. He could be Alderaan’s most exemplary guest and she would have still found the sight of him dipping strawberries in chocolate somewhat exhausting, but Rey soldiers on and right through the balcony’s ostentatious gates.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your date,” she quips when she gets close enough, swiftly cutting through the animated aircraft discussion that she might have felt tempted to join in on otherwise.

“It’s all right,” the prince assures, nodding towards the empty space next to the makeshift picnic table in invitation. “Is something wrong?”

“Not _wrong_.” Truth be told, she’d hoped to bait a response out of him. A half of a fresh and rather vulnerable surprise engagement should have been far more indignant about the word _date_ being thrown around quite so carelessly; instead, Solo has the benevolent look of someone who had had their _actual_ date interrupted but who feels generous enough to pay attention to her as well regardless. A question – one of many, if the most frequent – forms yet again: _why her?_ From what Rey had seen so far, the prince isn’t lacking in the friends department, and nearly all of them had given her the impression of people who would help him get his mother’s Council off his back if he’d asked; he could have easily picked a relationship that hadn’t festered in resentment for ten years. Had it just been about her sex? A male spouse wouldn’t be able to provide the promise of a continued lineage, but then there’s always adoption; the current queen is proof enough of that. _He or she_ , Leia had said, and clearly she hadn’t cared either way, so why? What had possessed him to ask? Better yet, what had possessed Voe Madin to _agree_? “The rehearsal for next week’s diplomatic dinner starts in twenty minutes.”

It had been an hour away by the time she’d tried to reach him, but she refrains from saying so. The prince is too irritable to like being rushed, she’s discovered, and too distractible to follow through if she reminds him in the morning. He’s not the only one, apparently – Dameron curses and straightens up, strawberry halfway to his mouth. “That’s _today_?”

“It’s just a rehearsal,” she stresses even as she watches Solo get to his feet and brush his coat off of whatever had managed to stick to it from the nearly immaculate marble floor. “The dinner itself is a week from now, but there’ll be no more preparations for it, so I thought you’d appreciate the reminder. The princess is nowhere to be found, so if you could—”

“I’ll get to her,” the prince nods and his expression goes vacant as he slips into yet another one of his more unnerving habits regarding the Force – butting into people’s minds without so much as a warning in an attempt at communication. “She’ll be there. Anything else?”

“Your mother wanted you to remember that the ceremonial colour of Chacrillon is red and that it would be better to show up in it. In the event of you lacking red in your wardrobe, and she thought you might, the tailor is waiting for a joint appointment for both you and the princess tonight after the rehearsal.”

She had quickly got used to the manner of speaking that the rest of the royal family’s staff had adopted, ever the chameleon. Everyone here, from what she’d seen, tends to be as accommodating as they are no-nonsense, respectful of their employers while simultaneously fully aware that they’d need to be insistent to get any of them to follow any kind of schedule. The prince’s father – the king consort, really, though from the little Rey knows of him, she supposes he doesn’t put that title to use too often – had left her with the impression of someone who had received even less training on court etiquette than the scarce scraps that his son paraded around with, and he’d left almost as soon as he’d arrived. _Come on, Ben,_ he’d urged like one would a particularly erratic dog, and the prince had followed wordlessly, only to bring back about twenty of their family’s closest friends, the Damerons among them, for what would apparently be the event of the month, overshadowed only by the engagement a fortnight prior.

Thinking of which...

“The queen _also_ encourages you to pick a ring for your fiancée and have her give you one in return. Any other sign of commitment will do as well, but you do need one,” she continues mercilessly before he’d managed to finish his pitiful groan about the previous requirement. “The chacrillians are modest people and, I quote, you would be better off without scandalising them.”

She turns on her heel just in time to avoid having to deal with Ben Solo’s advice for the chacrillians and what they can do with their modesty. Poe Dameron seems to be a better audience for it and, etiquette or not, Rey has her actual job to get back to.

~.~

It’s only after the rehearsal and well into the evening that she catches up with the royal couple again. She’s too exhausted to keep up the pretence of an actual reason to be there and instead asks her questions as directly as she can with the excuse of helping them craft their image better. It would have been helpful if she’d had the slightest idea of how that should happen, she supposes, and the previous management had left her little to no instructions, but they have yet to complain. It’s a good thing both her targets are as painfully honest as they are (and more clueless about politics that they should have the right to be, given their positions), or she would have sorely needed the crash course in public image that Leia had offered her; as it is, all she does is sit back and direct them through the muddier part of their relationship.

“We met when we were kids,” Voe says, irritable enough to make her fiancé scoff. Rey pays him no mind – if there’s one thing the two new additions to the court life have in common, it’s their temper, and it’s no wonder that they had decided to rejoin the rest of the world. The way of the Jedi, from what she’s heard from stories, is one of acceptance and serenity. Anything acceptable or serene in either of her clients must have been scrubbed off on their way out of the Temple as there’s no trace of it now, but it’s far more likely that they had never achieved either of those things to begin with. “Shouldn’t that be enough? I’m tired of making myself palpable to people I’ll never meet.”

“The interview was perfect. I don’t care what Mother says,” Solo nods and for once, they look like a united front. Outside of the few consultations she’d had with them together, Rey had rarely seen them in the same place at the same time – they seem to exist in entirely different social circles and spend more time one-on-one with other people than would be strictly appropriate if anyone had known. The people who do know aren’t to be underestimated either, Rey knows, but there’s little use in getting to that now. Before, under Master Skywalker’s care, they had had no servants or guards to speak of and now that they do, the adjustment is clearly a difficult one. Prior to his arrival at the temple, Ben Solo had been raised on a hectic, ever-rotating schedule of his parents, usually not both at the same time, and a handful of protocol droids. She doesn’t have to ask his counterpart to guess that it had likely been the same for her. “It was vague and told the press everything they want to hear. Secret, forbidden love, instant spark, dropping in the Force as an excuse a few times. What else is there?”

“Affection?” It’s his turn to scoff and Rey feels her exasperation surge up. She’s paid more than ever before for her investigative job, but not enough to handle _this_ as well. Spying is risky and unpredictable and thrilling, if occasionally terrifying when she missteps, but it had never brought her this kind of frustration. Oddly, she recalls her earliest years on Jakku; the way she’d sometimes sat by an oasis, trying to dig a hole in the sand and having it fill up with water at the smallest surge of wind over the surface. The effort had felt similarly futile, but she might have been better suited for staying hopeful at the age of four than she is now. “The queen said that the Council had offered you several options for marriageable heirs from all corners of the Galaxy, and the one you chose was as far away from their suggestions as possible.” She turns to Voe. “You had a life as a Jedi Knight ahead of you, and you chose to give up on it for his sake. How come?”

Several moments pass in silent communication as the tailor paces around the royal couple in circles, drawing out a measuring tape every now and again and draping various red fabrics over their restless bodies. It’s unnerving, like witnessing an entirely wordless argument, and finally, the prince turns to her again. “Is this still about what we’re telling everyone else or do _you_ want to know?”

“Both.” Two pairs of too-perceptible eyes narrow at her, but Rey squares her shoulders and meets them head on. There’s no sense in lying; not if it gets her closer to what she needs to do. “If you tell me the truth, I’ll at least know what to avoid when feeding everyone else a lie.”

“No one but us knows the truth,” Voe says unceremoniously, hopping down from the raised platform in the middle of the room when the tailor waves them both away and settling next to Rey on her bench by the door. “But you can have _a_ truth, if you want.”

It’s certainly better than nothing.”Works for me.”

~.~

If anyone had asked her a mere month ago to imagine where life would take her in the near future, Rey might have had a plethora of answers prepared for the occasion.

Not one of them would have included sitting between two deflected Jedi on the rooftop of a palace, getting the inner workings of the Force explained to her.

“It’s not about seeing the future,” Solo says when she makes to ask. They’d mentioned _visions_ and _intuition_ and a dozen other things too vague to make any kind of sense, and she’d just made to ask, only to be cut off with a timing too precise to involve anything but mind-reading. She wonders if she’ll feel it when he makes a more deliberate effort of it; if she’ll know if either of them invades her thoughts when she fails at keeping them away. It’s yet to happen, if she were to guess; neither of them seems to suspect a thing about her, after all. “It’s more like a gift from the Force. A guidance of a sort. None of us know what the future has in store for us, but sometimes, it’s easy to say where the Force needs you to go.”

“And what _is_ the Force, exactly?” It’s a question she’d meant to ask for some time now and clearly, she’d found the right targets for it. “A deity?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s—it’s _energy_. It’s the string that binds all things. Some of us are more sensitive to it than others, but it’s in every living being in the Galaxy. And when I left the Temple – when I came here – I could see where it would take me. When my mother told me about the Council’s idea, I knew that I had to go back. Voe had had the same hunch and we left together. From there on, we came to an— agreement about how we should proceed. It’s the Force that brought us here. It’s why we’re doing any of this. That’s all you need to know.”

Voe clicks her tongue and doesn’t seem to care when her fiancé glowers back at her. “If Skywalker was right about one thing, it was this. You can’t teach for shit.”

Rey manages to stifle her startled laughter just in time to face the prince as he turns to look at her, clearly anticipating a reaction. “How did he explain it to _you_ , then?”

“‘We’re all a door for the Force to stream through’ was the gist of it.” That doesn’t clear up much of anything either, but the princess reaches out with an impatient gesture. “Give me your hand and close your eyes. Imagine there’s a door in front of your mind, and picture closing it. I’ll try to show you, but you can keep your thoughts private.”

So that answers _that_ question, then. Rey closes the door with all her might, hoping that it’s enough; that she’ll be tactful enough to keep her distance if it isn’t. Neither of the Jedi Knights had struck her as tactful so far, but there’s a limit for everyone, isn’t there?

She feels a tentative presence in her mind, skimming the surface like breeze washing over her skin. It nudges senses she hadn’t known she’d ever possessed, and as if from a great distance, she hears the rumble of the prince’s voice. It takes a while for it to make sense, but she’s so far from the material world that she can barely catch on.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Some people need _guidance_ , Solo. It all depends on the individual.”

“It all depends on how deep in someone’s head you’re willing to go.”

“You don’t need to go too deep to give a basic impression of Force sensitivity.” Rey loses track of their directionless bickering for all of a moment and the next thing she hears is a gasp, quickly followed by the abrupt withdrawal of all foreign presence in her head. “ _That_ ’s strange.”

“What is it?” Solo learns forward and she has to blink a few times to bring them both back into focus. The world feels too crude, too _real_ all of a sudden. Too much to a mind that’s starting to creep out from behind a shield she hadn’t even been aware of.

“She has your signature.”

“She couldn’t. Are you sure you’re not just sensing _me_?”

“Of course I’m sure.” They’re both irritable enough and Rey is so tired of listening to them that it would have been far more preferable to yank her hand away from their collective grip and walk away, but neither of them lets go. “She has her own, but there’s an undercurrent of _you_. Can’t you sense it?”

“I really don’t think—” Rey begins, to no avail. Ben Solo sweeps through her thoughts, graceless and quick enough to see nothing in particular, and this is no longer the harmless, education entertainment that she’d meant it to be. She feels rooted in place, eyes frozen on his as something inside her cracks open for good and the Force rushes in even as he retracts, unsettled by the duality of the contact.

“Don’t be afraid,” the prince urges, panic written all over his features despite the softness of his voice, but it’s too late – the Universe stutters and begins its course again with an entirely new axis and a knowledge she’d never dreamt of – knowledge that belongs to _him_ – is pouring in fast enough to take her breath away.

Master Skywalker’s descriptions, streams and doors and all, feels like a violent understatement despite her lack of experience, but somehow, Rey _knows_ even before she hears Solo’s voice loud and clear in her mind, intertwining with her own presence in the Force – _this is something else_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey _is_ in fact, interested in a teacher who can show her the ways of the Force.

For a private spaceport, the wide space outside the royal residence is _crowded_.

It’s one of the parts of life at Alderaan that Rey can’t quite get used to, still – the fact that everything is bursting with life. She had carried out assignments in big cities before, but the nature of her work had always taken her to the more peaceful parts of life, trailing her targets from the back as they went about their day to day schedules. Most of them had been ordinary people with the most mundane of problems; none had had a life as public as the one of the heir to the Alderaanian throne and she might have preferred to focus on the findings she’d already made instead of joining him today if she’d had the choice.

She hadn’t been given one.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty—” Over the deafening noise from yet another departing ship, there’s no way that the king of Alderaan can actually hear her, but any reaction will do, given how late she’s already running. “Mr Solo—” As she comes closer, it occurs to her that he might not respond to his title if his son is around to take whatever responsibility is coming their way, but there’s no response to that either. It could be just that it’s too loud for him to know that she’s even there, but the lack of reaction still grates on her already thinning patience. It’s not his fault, not really, and she tries not to hold their nature against neither him not his son, but the fact still stands: apart from the queen, dealing with anyone in the Organa-Solo household feels about as efficient as herding cats. “Han!”

In the sudden, relative quiet, her voice echoes far and wide and Rey winces just as he turns to face her, not the slightest bit offended at her assumption of first name basis. Despite all their flaws, there’s that, at least, to be grateful for – they’re as unpretentious as royalty can possibly get. Ever since her first day in the city and Leia’s correction of her address towards her, she’s yet to meet anyone here who wants to be referred to by their actual title. “Rey! What brings you here?”

“The prince.” As tired as she is of following the man around, it would be far better to get on with it. There’s a lot she still needs to learn and getting him on his own had been on her list of ideas for a while now; might as well use the opportunity while he’s still willing. The fact that he’d decided to do this on his turf for it is a little out of her comfort zone, but it’s nothing she hasn’t dealt with before. He can’t possibly know why she wants him alone, after all – if he had, she would have likely left this planet weeks ago. “I was supposed to depart with him today.”

“Were you?” The king looks equal parts curious and unconvinced and there’s no way of telling if the latter is directed towards her or his son. It would have been offensive if it hadn’t been so clearly written on his face and Rey allows him his moment of doubt before he decides to probe further. “What for? He’ll be out on Jedi business for a few days, from what I heard.”

He shouldn’t _be_ having Jedi business anymore, not after leaving the Temple – that much Rey knows, at least, despite her lack of resources on anything remotely supernatural – but she’s not about to question that in front of another member of the royal family. Especially not considering that _she’s_ the Jedi business, from what she’d gathered out of the prince’s vague explanations of today’s plans. “He invited me to come along the other day; see some of the sites he usually goes to for meditation. Some of them might end up on the list of ideas for a wedding venue since the Force is strong with both of them. Plus, it could be educational.”

“I doubt that.” He hasn’t accused her of anything outright, but Rey can feel her cheeks heating up at the way his confusion turns to amusement. “See that flat, huge monstrosity by the edge of the ramp? That’s his starship. He’ll be there.”

The monstrosity in question, as Rey soon discovers, is a sleek, vast ship that seems altogether too large for a single person. Her initial assumption hadn’t fooled her, it seems – it really is just the two of them, though the prince is in the middle of an animated conversation with the droid on board when she finally gets a hint about his exact location.

“Master Solo, this is an uncharted route. I did just upgrade—”

“I already heard all about your upgrades,” Solo responds, the sound of his voice leading her down the corridor and directly into the pilot’s cabin, surprisingly spacious for someone who clearly travels alone more often than not. The dismissal in his voice makes her a little defensive given her own fondness for every droid who’d ever done their best to help their master, and the feeling only grows stronger as he continues. “If they really are as thorough as you say, something this small shouldn’t be an issue.”

“No, Master Solo.” She never thought that a droid could sound exasperated, but this one manages it just fine. Years under Ben Solo’s care would do that to any sentient creature, Rey supposes, living or not. “Of course not. It’s just quite unorthodox, wouldn’t you say?”

“Everything about this mission is unorthodox, Geegee.” The sight that greets her once she makes her way through the various spare parts scattered all over the floor and stands in the middle of the cabin is precisely the one she’d been expecting – the fretting droid is whirling all over the place, fixing any minor disorder it can find while the prince sits sprawled in the pilot’s chair, his thick hair fanned out in a dark halo around his face as he stares out of the front visor, clearly bored out of his mind, feet propped on the console and his cape laid around him in an effortless show of nonchalance. It fills her with the sort of fond disdain she usually saves for him alone and she gives him a moment more before making herself known. “Unorthodox is what I’m looking for, as it so happens. Nothing else will do this time. As soon as Rey gets here, we’re off.”

“I _am_ here.”

He starts in his place, straightening up and glancing over his shoulder as he straightens his clothing. Now that he’s focused – and therefore, she supposes, more aware of her presence in the Force around him – she can feel the tendrils of his mind skirting along the edge of her own, curious in its greeting. He points her towards the co-pilot’s seat and sweeps his arms in the sort of all-compassing gesture she’d got used to. There’s something in his grandiose nature that amuses her more than it should, but Rey doesn’t feel particularly inclined to do anything about it. “Good morning, Rey. Welcome to the _Grimtaash_. Be my guest.”

Rey doesn’t wait for another invitation, taking a quick, assessing look at her surroundings while the entrance to the ship hisses closed and the prince’s hands settle over the controls, quickly lifting them off the surface of the planet. “You didn’t mention a destination,” she ventures eventually as they leave the atmosphere and enter the soothing darkness of deep space. “Your droid did raise a few concerns about it right before we took off.”

Solo scoffs, plunging them into hyperspace with the sort of heavy-handedness that she’d come to expect of him in most aspects of his life. “Geegee’s a temple droid. He does his best to try and stop being my nanny eventually, but it’s hardwired into him, I’m afraid. I’ve yet to train him out of the habit. _Unorthodox_ ,” he adds, as if still offended at the expressed concern. “Just because it’s a turbulent world doesn’t mean it’s unapproachable. Plus, I have a friend there.”

“So it’s a planet?” He’s still being rather scarce about the information she receives, but Rey really is entirely unsure as to what she’s supposed to expect – or, as a matter of fact, what the end goal is.

“Yes, it’s a planet. One you might enjoy, given your background.”

Anxiety and adrenaline shoot through her before she can stop them and the prince gives her a questioning look as he navigates them in his preferred direction. She’d been afraid since the start that he would _know_ , somehow, and this strange connection that had opened between them had only made it easier for him to breach whatever defences she hopes she has, but there’s no way he had actually guessed what her real purpose here is, or he wouldn’t have decided to go gallivanting around the Galaxy with her before confronting her about it. She knows him well enough to be sure of that, at least.

“My background?” she dares at long last and he nods, distracted. Rey tries to stifle her relief. If he’s noticed that something is amiss – and he had, she had seen it in his eyes – he’d been kind enough to drop it for now.

“Yes. I asked my mother – she knows you better than I do, I think – what world you’d find most suitable for what I have in mind and she mentioned that you’re from Jakku.” Knowing her homeworld would make it much easier to track down who she really is, but it’s clear that he’s not even suspicious and for that, Rey is grateful even as the treacherous first signs of guilt sneak through her defences. His mother is her client and this is all for his own good – to make sure that he’s alright and safe and doing what he truly wants – but that self-reassurance had been getting more and more futile for a while now. She’d rarely known a mark as closely as she does him by now and it’s a novel feeling in the worst possible way. “I was planning on bringing you to Tatooine because it’s grounding with how calm it is, but then I realised that you’re probably sick of sand.”

The fact that he’d thought about it this much is both heart-warming and a tad alarming. “I definitely was sick of it by the time I left.” Her leaving had been a whirlwind of shooting and fighting before she’d finally managed to get the escapee Stormtrooper – who had eventually become her best friend – off-world. Finn had been the one to encourage her to stay gone when she’d thought about returning home, even if it had all started as his frantic efforts to escape the shadow of the First Order, and everything had changed from then on. “That’s very considerate of you.” As much as she tries to keep the caution out of her voice, it’s still apparent enough to make him laugh in the same cynical note she’d got used to hearing from him.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’ll need to be comfortable for what I have in mind.”

“And what is it, exactly, that you have in mind, Your Grace?” She’d usually omit the title per his request, but the secrecy isn’t doing her nervous anticipation any favours. “You never said.”

The prince spares her an irritated glance, but doesn’t reproach her. It’s proper protocol whether he likes it or not, so it’s allowed, but it’s also clearly draws enough of his attention for him to finally grace her with a response.

“What Voe mentioned a few days back – about your trace in the Force being the same as mine,” he clarifies, as if she could ever forget. As if anything about the world had felt right or familiar or even slightly _usual_ since then. “I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not something I had heard of happening before – my mother and Master Skywalker are twins and they’re still so different in _presence_ , so what would connect two perfect strangers?” She has no response, but he doesn’t seem to expect one from her. “So I started digging through every source of information about the Jedi, the Sith, and anyone else who’s ever declared themselves proficient in the Force in the hopes of finding something about it. Finally, I stumbled upon a legend. It’s old – older than anything I’ve ever read about before – but it does hold true with what we seem to be experiencing so far. Your own senses for the Force are still dormant, of course, and that doesn’t help, but I can still _feel_ you, so I suppose I found what I was looking for.”

Oddly enough, she knows exactly what he means. I can still feel you. Even long after their minds had disconnected from one another, she had sensed his lingering presence on the periphery of her existence, like a guest she hadn’t been quite sure she should invite in. It must have felt the same way on his end if he’s this mystified about it. “And what was it?”

“A dyad in the Force. That’s what a book of legendary warriors called it while describing it as a connection between two of those warriors. _Two that are one_. It’s an ancient concept,” he says, as if suddenly aware of what his words could imply. “We must forgive the Jedi of old their romanticising of what is most likely a natural, if rare, phenomena. From what I can gather, it happens on a random basis, but I think it would be beneficial for you to be trained in the basics of Force usage either way.”

 _That_ sounds a bit too exotic for her tastes. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“Well, I’m not one either, so if you could keep your expectations to a minimum, that would be wonderful.” Before Rey can voice another protest, the ship starts to sink towards the surface – _a_ surface – once again, and any further questions she might have had promptly die in her throat.

It’s so _green_. Since she’d left Jakku, she’d been on more than one world with plenty of local flora, but it had all been of the same kind one might see on Alderaan – confined to the city and cut and shaped all too often so that it can adapt to its surroundings and the humans that take up the majority of the space. There’s not a hint of that here, just water and trees as far as the eye can see, with one large, imposing building somewhere in the jungle’s depths. To her surprise, that’s not where they’re headed, and she turns her dazed eyes towards her companion in question.

“We’ll visit later; it’s part of the plan,” he assures her and it’s enough to satiate the curiosity that had suddenly flared up. “For now, I’d like to show you how to open your mind to the Force in the first place.”

“Wouldn’t that have been easier with your betrothed around?” She’s not eager to have them bicker over her brain like they had the last time, but she’s still unclear on the specifics of the lessons he’s offering her. The more power there is, the better, right?

“Voe is spending the day with my mother so she can pick out a crown and a wedding dress,” Solo says with a headshake, helping her down off the ramp of his ship absent-mindedly. Instead of letting go of her hand, he decisively pulls her directly towards the forest with him. It’s a bold enough move that she follows without question. “I’m sure it’s the most fun she’s had ever since the lecture on midi-chlorians that Master Skywalker decided to read out to us when we were fifteen.”

“Sounds— fascinating.” She’s so hopelessly out of her depth that it’s starting to make her feel unsure if any of this had been a good idea; even more so when the prince laughs merrily at her assessment.

“It’s the most mind-numbingly boring thing I’ve heard before – or since – then. We did learn a lot, but I didn’t bring you to the other end of the Galaxy to teach you about midi-chlorians.” He lets go of her hand, just to point her to a raised rock above a small stream. “We can start here; plenty of things to feel in this forest. Sit down and close your eyes.”

Quietly grateful for the foresight to wear the soft, comfortable clothes she’d prefer in her day to day life instead of what she tends to wear back in the royal residence, Rey climbs over the stony surface, turning to see that he’d followed right behind her as soon as she’s on top. She mirrors his stance once he takes his place and Solo nods his approval, hands ghosting over hers again as he lowers them over the sun-warmed surface under her fingertips.

“Close your eyes,” he urges again and lets go once she does. It makes no difference – she can feel him lingering right next to her, both in body and in soul. “That’s right. Open your senses to the world around you.”

It’s easier said than done for someone with no practice whatsoever, but Rey reaches out as much as she can, pushing against her mind’s invisible borders. She can hear the prince’s hum of approval and persists in her efforts, a cacophony of noises sneaking into her awareness on another level, different from the physical one she’s ready experiencing; intangible but undeniably present. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

“Looking at, not for,” Solo corrects and Rey startles when she feels his presence in her mind again, gentle and guiding her towards something that she has no name for. “Everything is already there; you just have to reach out and _feel_ it.”

Voe had been right – he’s not a particularly helpful teacher – but it’s enough to make her understand. All of a sudden, it feels like her mind scatters across the world around them, sinking into every living thing, every rock, every crevice in the ground that she hasn’t even had a chance to see yet. Everything is there – life and death and joy and suffering and warmth and the absence of it, bright and stark and inescapable. It’s as if she’s suddenly aware of each and every invisible thing on this world, no matter how miniscule or seemingly insignificant, and it leaves her breathless.

“That’s right.” The prince’s voice is as grounding as it’s distracting and Rey laughs despite herself, just a bit high on the sensation. Had she been blind until now? There’s no way all of this has always been there, waiting for her to open her eyes. She would have seen it years ago. “Not necessarily. Sometimes, without proper guidance, it’s difficult for even the most gifted Force sensitives to connect to their power.”

 _That_ is enough to bright her crashing down. Her eyes snap open and she’s torn between awe and fury at the serene expression that answers her inquisitive gaze. “Did you read my mind?”

“Didn’t you?” He’s so, so close. Rey blinks rapidly, trying to let her eyes acclimate to the vivid colours of the forest and the splash of black that Solo makes in her immediate vision. “I was under the impression that we’d established a connection.”

Had they? There’s no real way for her to know, given how little of her new, budding sense for the world actually makes sense to her, but it’s still best to just ask, she figures. Jedi or not, he had spent the better part of his life training for what he had spent a handful of minutes trying to teach her. “Did we?”

With no warning whatsoever, he raises his hand so that it nearly brushes against her temple and closes his eyes again. This time, the intrusion is far more obvious; a sudden pressure that her mind traitorously allows. She wants to fight him, wants to push back, but there’s little to no resistance when it comes to what is, apparently, the Force taking the reins inside her – his presence curls around hers and she just lets him, the universe screeching to a complete halt.

It feels nothing like she’d expected.

He’s not in her mind now; it’s entirely different once everything settles into its natural order. It’s almost like they’re one singular being, the pieces of which have finally clicked into place for good. There are tears in her eyes, Rey realises with a distant twinge of shame, but who could blame her? It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before; a return and a journey and a rightness that she had never anticipated could even exist, as if something that she had sorely missed had found its way to where it should have always been; a phantom limb that had never quite registered to her conscious mind until now.

It feels like _home_.

“Rey.” The prince sounds just as unsettled, but there’s no way he can be feeling the same thing – no way has he been as lonely as she’d been all of those years on Jakku, a sick kind of desperation accompanied by an insatiable craving for something that she had never been able to name.

She can now. Clearly, so can he.

“You need a teacher,” he says, the hand that had hovered over her shoulder finally settling over her skin, so warm that it’s burning her through her clothes. Had he ever touched her before? It’s difficult to remember; that or anything else – it’s as if every moment aside from this one had crumbled to nothing for the time being. “Whatever this is, we’ll need to study it more, see how it works.” His eyes are alight with fascination and she’s never seen anything more beautiful. “I can show you everything I know and we can learn more together.”

Dazed and nearly feverish with the same drive that had already taken over him completely, Rey nods her agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben almost assumes he's being propositioned and Rey determinedly avoids doing some soul-searching. Feedback is, as usual, most welcome!

“I have good news and bad news,” Rey says in lieu of a greeting when Finn finally flickers into view.

“Start with the good,” he advises right off the bad, ever the optimist. She had met him all the way back on Jakku and they’d both found their places in the world after that. It hadn’t been easy, but few things would be, she supposes, for a scavenger and a deserter from the First Order. Although they’re an organisation working mainly in the shadows for now, Rey is well aware of how difficult it had been for him to leave. The fact that he still finds the time to cheer her on through an occupation considered adventurous, to put it kindly, by many, never fails to amaze her.

“I might have a lead,” she says. It sounds like _excellent_ news, given that, despite her reassurances towards the Queen, she hadn’t one much on Alderaan apart from playing both a publicity manager and a part-time Jedi, but, “It’s Luke Skywalker.”

“ _The_ Luke Skywalker?”

“Yes.”

“Your target’s estranged uncle?”

“ _Yes_. I know it’s not much.” The frustration seeping into her voice pours out before she can bottle it up again. “But he’s the only one who’s known them both for all those years. Well, there’s him and all their classmates, I suppose, but he should be the expert, right? If they were connected in any way— no, he would have said, he tells me everything—”

“Right.” Despite his best efforts, Finn can’t quite mask his scepticism. “Rey, didn’t you say this guy can read minds? What makes you think he isn’t playing the long con? He might already know what you’re trying to do.”

He doesn’t, Rey’s sure of it. It’s in his eyes, ever so trusting, whenever they work or, especially, when he takes her on yet another quick training course in the Force. While the public statements she doctors whenever he or his fiancée are forced to communicate the masses are heavily, carefully filtered, everything he offers _her_ is painfully honest.

She’s not ready to tell Finn about the connection just yet. She’s not sure why – or, rather, has a sneaking suspicion that she’d prefer to never have to face – but it’s enough of an incentive for her to try and keep him in the dark about it, no matter how irrational it makes her seem. “He doesn’t. I just know it. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I trust you.” They’d made it through quite a lot more than a royal family’s complicated history. “I just hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.” _Always_ , Rey thinks, a faint smile blooming on her lips and Finn sighs, clearly having come to the same conclusion. “So what is it about Skywalker that works for you?”

“Apart from his relationship with his nephew, absolutely nothing. No matter how deep I dig,” _no matter how close we get_ , “it’s never enough for him to open up about it. Whatever happened between them made him come back home and I can see why he’ try to lure away another one of his Jedi Knights just to spite him; he’s definitely the type.” Despite her annoyance, a fond smile breaks through, timely if uninvited. “By why did Voe _agree_? And why did he pick her at all?” She glances down at her notes, a gesture born out of habit, though she doesn’t need them this time. By now, she knows the dynamics of Luke Skywalker’s Jedi Temple by heart. “There was a handful of students living there, most of them his age. He got along fine with most, even if the majority probably wouldn’t throw their futures away for his hand in marriage. That is, if we exclude his inner circle – he had a bit of a clique even then.”

“Maker, I hated those types.”

“I think I’m starting to hate them, too.” She knows nothing about the First Order – not in the way Finn does – but the prince’s constant entourage is more irritating than she’d care to admit. “So, the inner circle. They were the prodigies of the Temple, so it’s only natural that they’d stick together. There’s Hennix – Solo doesn’t talk about him much, so I suppose there wasn’t anything special between them, even as far as friendship goes. There’s Voe – they were each other’s main competition for thirteen years; from their first lesson and all the way through the knighting ceremony. The Queen talked to her brother after the news about the engagement broke out and apparently, competition is all it ever was. Teenagers are capable of anything when it’s forbidden, but I don’t think they’ve ever had an affair of any kind.” Come to think of it, she hadn’t even seen them _kiss_ without a hovercam pointed in their direction. “Even now that they’re adults, they seem to annoy each other more than anything else.” There’s _something_ unspoken there, but it might very well be nothing more than yet another connection established through the Force. He had been mystified by the bon the two of them had discovered, so it must be unique, Rey supposes, but there’s no knowing what milder versions of it exist out there. For one, “There’s also Tai. His best friend. For over a decade, they were closer than brothers. They can sense each other in the Force even now, hundreds of light years apart. I haven’t met him yet, but they do visit one another’s new respective homes occasionally. So why not him? He would have wanted to help.” That’s the feeling she gets, at least, and as the very same prince had repeatedly assured her, any feeling she has is likely, more often than not, her intuition originating from the power she’s just started to unveil within her own mind.

“Weren’t the Jedi all about celibacy?”

“Says who?”

“Says Luke Skywalker, I bet. Not that they’d need to do anything for a sham marriage, but no one else apart from them knows it’s not real.” Finn seems to reflect on her predicament for a moment with the usual clarity that the uninvolved tend to have. “Although if it were that, there’s always his,” he falters, as if unsure about the title when a man’s the one involved, “Lord in waiting?”

“Poe,” Rey clarifies. “It’s not a professional relationship of any kind, I think, and Poe would have definitely agreed.” For the novelty and adventure of it, if nothing else, and even without that in mind, she’s certain that he and the prince have broken this particular Jedi rule at least a dozen times by now. It’s infuriating, how easy it is for both him and Voe to pursue any affair they see fit, disregarding all the work she has to do to keep their picture-perfect engagement from falling apart in the public eye. It’s almost infuriating enough for her to remember that she should be only _pretending_ to do that part of her job. “No matter how much he trusts me, something this close to his heart will need a little more finesse.”

Which is a pity, really. Finesse has never been her strong side and everything that Solo does tend to be as straightforward as it gets, so there’s no telling if it’ll even _work_.

“I’m still not sure how this relates to my original question,” Finn offers mildly, breaking her away from her scheming.

 _Right_. “That’s why I started training with him. In the hopes that after a few sessions, I’d be able to read his mind as easy as he does it to everyone else.”

It sounds flimsy to her own ears, given that all Finn had wanted to know had been why she’d opted to agree to the prince’s offer for lessons when she already has so much on her plate.

“So you, someone with two weeks of experience, think you’ll eventually – within the next month or so – stand against a lifetime of training without him ever realising what you’ done.”

“It’s been more than two weeks.” It _does_ seem ridiculous when he puts it that way, mainly because it is. Rey had already got a good deal of the skills she wants to perfect just by indulging in the connection they’d discovered and is a surprisingly quick study because of it – the more time she spends in the prince’s company, the better her results. In spite of all the improvement she’d gone through, there’s no way she’d ever use the things he’d taught her to pry something quite so personal out of him. Manipulation isn’t much better and it makes her feel guiltier by the ay – that she’s yet another pair of eyes tracing his every move in a world he’d thought would offer him the freedom he’d clearly been craving for years – but it’s not the same. She couldn’t possibly look him in those startlingly earnest eyes and use all they’ve shared against him.

“Not much of a plan,” she concedes at last. _And that’s putting it mildly_. She has to make a move, though, and soon, or she’ll have nothing new to offer the Queen by the time their next meeting rolls around. “But it’s all I’ve got.”

~.~

Despite Solo’s affinity for exotic worlds and novel destinations, there’s no better place for training than the palace gardens.

It’s a vast space, many times bigger than Rey’s makeshift home on Jakku had been, and it never ceases to amaze her with its unceasing spring of wonders. There’s the archway hidden deep within one of the mazes – the same that the prince had made her take apart and then tangle back into its original shape just a few days back – and his own personal garden, hidden deep within the greenery; the gazebo that he stays in whenever he’s feeling pensive, writing in his paper scrolls in long, swooping letters that entrance her for hours when she manages to take a peek. It’s become much more of a home to her than her quarters in the royal residence have managed to be so far, not least of all because it’s so full of life. She feels as connected to the Force here as she had been back on Takodana – or she _would_ , usually, if she hadn’t had her host breathing down her back in the most literal sense of the word.

“You need to relax your grip.” Solo’s low rumble in her ear is a bigger distraction than it has any right to be and Rey freezes in her otherwise immaculate stance. His hand wraps around hers and pries her fingers off of the training weapon’s wooden handle. “Lightsabers are, well, light. Literally. You’ll barely feel it in your hand. Your swings don’t have to be that stiff.”

“I’d know that if I could get around to actually holding one.” She doesn’t mean for it to come off as biting as it does, but his patient berating seems to hold more and more weight with each passing day in which she gets no real experience.

He has the gall to scoff as he moves away. “And have you slice my face in half? I don’t think so.”

It seems good-natured enough for her to decide to tease back. “You’re right. Might hurt your public image if anyone decides to say that Voe was the one to do it.”

Solo’s lips curl up in a reluctant smile and she breathes a sigh of relief – she’s still on safe territory. “Voe’s left me plenty of scars over the years.”

That comes as a surprise, no matter how many anecdotes about their days in the Temple she’s already heard. “And here I thought this,” she gestures around to the entirety of their pretend fight, “was you picking up your training techniques out of Luke Skywalker’s.”

“Oh, I am. It’s just that when someone’s angry enough, how dulled a weapon is doesn’t matter much.” He scratches at his upper right arm in what seems to be an entirely subconscious gesture. “I made her _that_ angry quite often.”

She can imagine why. Despite his many wonderful qualities, Ben Solo is a difficult sparring partner. His grasp on the Force and all its mechanisms is sure as steel, his forms are practiced to perfection without being stiff and every advice he offers is as honest as it is condescending. It’s not that he’s _trying_ to be obnoxious about it, but that he can’t help it – he’s too polished, too off-handed, too confident with his abilities. If she’d met him as a child – ha learnt at the same pace as him for years – she might have hated him a little, too.

“So is that how it works for you two?” They’re nearly an hour into the routine he’d made for her; time for some fishing attempts. “Hate turned into passion?”

“Voe’s passionate, all right.” Solo looks more amused than affected at the question, but Rey still has to suppress a suspicious, unpleasant wince at the thought. Both the prince and his princess are outrageously attractive people; she would not be averse to the thought of the two of them together if it hadn’t come from him. “She rarely picks the pleasant outlet for it, from what little I know.”

“ _Shouldn’t_ you know?” She can’t help herself. It’s either going to make him suspect her or make him think she’s being innocently nosy, neither of which is an impression she’d like to leave him with, but Solo’s expression speaks of something she can’t quite read.

“No,” he says at last. It’s strangely pointed. “No, I have no idea. Her business is her own. And vice versa.”

“So sharing a bed,” it’s the most royalty-appropriate way of saying it and Rey prays he actually answers instead of playing dumb, “is not part of your— arrangement?”

If he finds anything about her sudden curiosity to be out of the ordinary, he doesn’t say so. Instead, for once, he takes pity on her. “No, it’s not. Our quarters are divided in two with a door between them, so we’ve both got plenty of space for ourselves, and no, neither of us expects anything of the other. I listed my boundaries the day I made the proposal and I urged Voe to do the same. We both have our goals; a marriage is a perfect way to meet them, for now.”

“And when Alderaan is in need of an heir?” His eyes turn a little sharper; a tad warier. “It’s a popular question, you know. Up to and including from your mother, and Voe’s parents, I bet.”

“Oh, I hope not.” The cheer in his tone is as artificial as it gets and Rey holds back any reaction threatening to come through. “You don’t get to give your child up to the Jedi Order at the age of ten _and_ be an overbearing parent.” Rey doesn’t ask him to comment on Leia, too – in a way, he just had. “Plus, they seemed to like me when we met. They’re less likely to bother us if they think I’m a catch, even if they’re disappointed that their daughter gave up on a life of Jedihood in order to ride off into the Alderaanian sunset.”

The mockery in his voice is enough to tell her what she’d needed to know – he’s not taking any of this seriously. _No long-term plans, either_. Whatever this is, they clearly don’t mean for it to last their entire lives – or more than a few years, in fact. “We’ve got more than enough to tackle without parents to coordinate with.”

“Understood.” It’s not a topic she wants to press further, lest she actually upsets him. The way he straightens up, oddly detached all of a sudden at her next demand, is more than enough punishment-wise. “Ben, as your publicity manager, I just have to ask if each of you is allowed extramarital affairs,” a sharp nod, “there’s always the chance of children coming into the equation. “She can barely swallow past the lump in her throat, but she needs to know. “In the event of that happening—”

“It won’t.” He sounds too certain for her to think that he’s not taking _this_ part seriously. “We’ve both agreed on that, at least. No children unless we’re sure they’ll be cared for properly, by their parents an no one else.” He’d been sitting at a respectable distance so far, but now he inches closer, hand crossing half of the no man’s land between them expectantly. “I wouldn’t subject anyone to that, Rey.”

She wants to cry. She _is_ crying, Rey realises after another beat, when her vision blurs and she grips onto Ben’s hand, refusing to let go.

“I know.”

~.~

Her weekly meeting with Leia had rarely been more uncomfortable. In fact, it had never been quite this bad before, Rey is almost certain: after all, she had never felt the need to hide anything from her.

“He did confirm that it’s an arrangement they’ agreed on, but was reluctant when it came to telling me why. He _is_ taking it to heart, you can be sure of that. No ulterior motives, as far as I can tell. They both have something to gain from the marriage, but I’m not sure it’s got to do with Alderaan – or his position as a prince, for that matter.”

The Queen frowns, contemplating. “And what’s Voe’s perspective on that?”

“Very similar.” The princess-to-be had told her as much on Rey’s very first day in the royal residence. Talking to her is like pulling teeth, too, but she’s a tad more open about her intentions; that much she can give her. “He made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, apparently. For all intents on purposes, I don’t think I have much else to offer you.”

What is she _doing_? This assignment has brought in better money than any before it for relatively simple work and she had gained much more in the process; anyone in her position would be milking it to the very last drop. She’d never felt an ounce of guilt towards a target before, no matter how long she’d spent with them. The royal family had barely housed her for two months; the last she can do is keep up her work for the person who actually _pays_ her.

She can’t, is the thing. She can’t possibly let him keep sharing parts of himself with her, expecting nothing in return, only to turn around and report the most fragile parts of it all back to his mother.

“That’s—comforting to hear.” Leia seems lost for words for all of a moment, clearly as surprised by the abrupt attempt to end their professional relationship as Rey herself had been. “Now, for the next part of your task, I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little further. I know he’s been tutoring you in the art of using the Force – it’s all right,” she adds before Rey had had the chance to deny it, “and you’re picking up on the basics quite easily, I can already feel it.”

She can feel heat creep up her neck, blotchy and unpleasant. Of course his mother would know. Where else could he have inherited it from? “He’s been exceptionally generous.”

“I’m sure.” It doesn’t sound like it. “He’s also been exceptionally conflicted for as long as he’s been alive. There’s a darkness in him; one I was hoping you could investigate for me.”

She shouldn’t, Rey knows; it’s the last thing her newly awakened sense of morality needs. If Leia mistrusts her son this much, she should have never allowed him back home, and she almost says as much before the Queen speaks again, catching onto her hesitation.

“It’s not for my sake; it’s for his,” she reminds her. It sounds so terribly reasonable. “I’m his mother, of course I worry.”

“Of course,” Rey echoes, still frozen in place by her discomfort.

“Rey.” Leia’s voice is unbearably gentle and far too understanding. “Has anything—”

“I accept,” she spits out before she can think about it. She can’t leave now. It’s for his good, after all, isn’t it?

Leia’s eyes still feel like needles piercing right through her, but she nods. “That’s wonderful. If there’s anything you need – anything at all – don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Of course.” The repetition sounds desperate to her own ears, but there’s no way out now. There hasn’t been one for a while now. “I won’t disappoint you, Your Majesty.”


End file.
